The Duke's Daring Debutante

‘If she’s right...’ Minette said, looking at him.

He clenched his jaw so hard he felt his back teeth give. ‘If she’s lying, her children will be orphans.’

A satisfied smile crossed the Frenchwoman’s face. Clearly she did not believe the threat any more than Minette did, because she was shaking the woman’s hand. ‘It is a bargain.’

Freddy reached into the pocket in his coat. ‘How much do you need to get you started?’

The woman’s eyes gleamed. ‘A hundred pounds. It will rent the shop and the accommodation above and buy enough fabric for the first gown.’ She narrowed her eyes, her gaze running over Minette. ‘A carriage gown like this one,’ she said, picking up the doll dressed in green velvet with fancy decoration down the front. ‘Are you to attend a ball soon?’

‘My engagement ball is in a couple of weeks,’ Minette said. ‘Many important people will attend. It is to be held at my fiancé’s estate in Kent.’

The woman beamed. ‘You shall wear my gown.’

‘Understand this, madame,’ Freddy said. ‘If this delay causes me to fail in my task to find this man, you will not like the consequences.’

The woman’s gaze flew to Minette and back to him. ‘I assure you all will be well.’ She picked up a small cloth bag at her feet and pulled out a bunch of string. ‘I will measure now and send a note to say when I will come to you for a fitting. Then we will choose the fabric for the rest of the gowns. Please, stand and I will help you unclothe.’

Minette rose and turned her back to the woman. ‘Freddy, please. Madame Vitesse will help us.’

Madame Vitesse was helping her all right. Helping her to be naked.

Freddy’s body tightened at the thought of seeing her wearing nothing but little bits of string. Inwardly cursing, he turned his back. ‘Hurry up. I don’t want to keep my horses waiting any longer than is needed.’

A low laugh from Minette said she didn’t believe his impatience for a moment.

It must have been the hoarseness in his voice.

* * *

‘That went excellently well,’ Freddy said, once they were back on the road. ‘The woman gulled you. Gowns.’ He snorted.

The derisive edge in his voice brought Minette straighter in her seat. ‘It could have been worse.’

‘I suppose it could. She could have asked me to dress every lady in the ton.’

‘You are being a bear. This way you will get both him and his men.’

He grunted. ‘If I didn’t know better, I might think she knew about this betrothal of ours before we did.’

She winced. ‘About that. As soon as we have dealt with Moreau, we will announce our engagement is at an end.’

He sent her a look full of disgust. ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

‘I’ll cry off.’

‘Wonderful. Tell me what other schemes there are floating around in that lovely head of yours.’

‘There is no need for sarcasm.’

‘I’m not being sarcastic. I simply want to know what I am in for next.’

Why was he arguing about this? He had made it quite clear he didn’t want to wed her any more than she did him. Contrary man. No matter what she said, he would argue. And yet... She frowned. ‘Are you saying you actually want this marriage?’

The glance he gave her was full of exasperation and something else. Bleakness? Loneliness? ‘I’m saying we don’t have a choice. What about Gabe and your sister? If you don’t care about anyone else, what about their sensibilities?’

‘I will simply inform them we discovered we did not suit after all.’

His chest rose and fell with a huge sigh. A man tried to the limit of his patience. She braced for his next assault. It wasn’t long in coming. ‘After what Sparshott and his daughter saw, your reputation will be ruined, Minette. Those things don’t go away. There will be no decent men throwing their hats in the ring. Not after that. You need the protection of my name.’

For a man who had been so set against marrying, his insistence was odd. Something inside her twisted painfully. Longing. Surely not. The man was marrying her to preserve his honour. Using her for his own purposes, as Pierre had used her. She wasn’t fool enough to think it could possibly be more. ‘I don’t want to get married. To you or anyone else. You don’t even like me.’ Dash it, why had she given voice to that little bit of resentment?

‘I don’t dislike you.’ His voice was arctic.

‘In truth? When you think I planned to trap you into marrying me?’

He winced. ‘I beg your pardon. I am as much to blame as you for what happened.’

She gasped theatrically. ‘Are you actually apologising?’

‘Now who is being sarcastic?’

She laughed. ‘Touché, Your Grace.’

He smiled, albeit a little unwillingly and fleetingly. Still, it made her heart feel a little lighter to see his expression ease. He looked much younger, more approachable. Perhaps... But no. She was right. When this was over they would part company. Because when this was over, even his honour wouldn’t be enough to make him want her as his wife.

A pang twisted in her chest. ‘Let us see how we feel about it once Moreau is caught.’

He looked unconvinced but resigned, and that was the best she could hope for.

Chapter Five (#ulink_e10c96fe-6870-5095-acbc-023d87670db6)

The next three days were a whirl of activity for Minette. First Madame Vitesse had involved her and Nicky in the selection of a site for her new shop. Nicky had been more than willing to help the woman after Minette had told her that their countrywoman had provided her with assistance, though she did not correct Nicky’s misunderstanding that the help had come while Minette had been alone and struggling to survive in France.

If guilt was a pain in her chest, she consoled herself with the knowledge that the seamstress was helping them both, or she would be, once she retrieved her property from Moreau.

Then there had been the fittings—first the promised carriage dress then this evening gown. Not the one for the engagement ball—that would come later in the week. This one was for a rout they’d been invited to at the last moment. She smoothed her hands down her skirts as she sat at the dressing table while her maid put the final touches to her toilette. Madame Vitesse was undoubtedly talented. The gown was extraordinarily beautiful with a floor-length slip of white satin and a white gauze overdress draped in the style of the ancients. Fastened at the side, the overskirt fell to an inch below the knee and was edged with Greek keys. White satin sandals and gloves finished the ensemble.

No one would doubt it was an original or very French.

Tonight would be her and Freddy’s first appearance in public since the betrothal announcement. The ton would be watching, waiting to see how he reacted to her. Waiting to condemn if he gave the slightest hint he wasn’t pleased with the match. After all, he was a duke and she was nothing but an upstart émigrée, even if her sister was married to a nobleman who had the support of the royal family.

More importantly, tonight would give her an opportunity to speak to him alone. Madame Vitesse had been none too happy when she’d arrived with this gown. And with good reason.

Christine settled a tiara of carnations, in a colour Madame Vitesse had called maiden’s first blush, low on her brow, careful not to disturb the ringlets framing her face and clustered on her crown. She slipped her hands into the elbow-length gloves her maid held out and stood before the pier glass to judge the effect.

Christine sighed. ‘Perfect, mademoiselle.’

Yes, Madame Vitesse knew her business. It would not be her appearance that put the Duke of Falconwood to shame this evening. She turned away from her reflection at the same moment Nicky entered.